Once Upon A December
by Tathariel
Summary: They lost the war, all those years ago, but now she’s back – back to visit the one she loves. Can she learn to move on, when the world around her lies in ruins?


A/N: I wrote this as a one off fic, after watching Anastasia again. Yeah, the song is good. It's so bitter, yet sweet at the same time, and then I came up with this idea and... yeah. As you prolly know, 'Once Upon A December' comes from Anastasia, but it's sung by Deana Carter. This isn't a songfic, but well, the song is in it. If that makes sense. Please read and review. 

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**Once Upon A December**

*December 2007* 

A soft, thin sheet of snow covered the ground, hiding the grass from view. A light wind swept through the area, and, if you listened hard enough, you might have heard the birds, chirping as they darted from branch to branch in the small trees situated around the otherwise silent grounds. Sunshine bathed over the area, though it's warmth never seemed to penetrate the thick sense of cold, dread and darkness that dwelled. These grounds were home to many graves, some old and weathered and others new and bright, not yet tainted by rain and wind. The whole graveyard was surrounded by a big, brass fence, high and sturdy, and the only way in or out was through the gate, a gate that was locked almost 24/7, only being opened to bring in new coffins for burial. 

She hadn't been here in 10 years. 10 long years in which she'd spent without the courage. 10 long years of suffering – unable to find closure. Yet, here she was now. She might not have known why, in fact, she _didn't_ know why, but something had drawn her back to this place. Perhaps 10 years living like a muggle had been long enough to find a tiny spark of courage left in her, or perhaps it was just the longing to visit a wizarding town again. 

She'd spent the afternoon, wandering through the town – Godric's Hollow. At one point in time it was a magnificent wizarding town, filled with laughter and happiness, little children and a wide assortment of magical creatures, but not now. Very few people lived here now, most of the homes destroyed and gone. Yes, this had been a target town, many years ago. They had come in the dead of the night, and relished in hearing the people scream. They had enjoyed the kill. 

Very few had dared to venture back, rumor had it that the town was cursed. These days, the town consisted of very little – a pub, a corner store, a few houses, and the graveyard. The main street looked empty, and the town merely an echo of its former self. 

_'Alohomora,'_ she whispered softly, one hand clutching a small piece of Birchwood beneath her robes. Her wand. There was the sound of clicking, before the brass gate opened. She used her free hand to push it back, as it protested, squeaking loudly on rusty hinges. She left it open, as she stepped into the shallow snow in the graveyard grounds. Her head was pounding, and her heart a cage full of butterflies. Was she really ready for this? Could she go through with it? 

She took several, long breaths of chilly air to calm herself, before slowly venturing forward. The soft snow sank slightly beneath her feet, and a burst of cold wind swept past. She drew her heavy cloak tightly around her. Walking into the heart of the graveyard, she was oblivious to the rows and rows of headstones that passed her by. Subconsciously, she knew just where she was heading. 

Hidden away, in the furthermost corner of the burial grounds, were a group of headstones long since forgotten. Ivy crept up around some of them, covering the names from view. Yet, they were still there, and she knew just whom each headstone belonged to. 

Stopping at the first of the headstones, she knelt down to brush aside the overgrowth that was partially obscuring the name. Sirius Lee Black. Born 13 March 1960 – Died 21 December 1997. The inscription was simple, _'May your star forever shine.'_ True to the words, Sirius had always shone. Right up until the point where he was killed. He had died that night – when wards had fallen, and things had taken a turn for the worst – so many people had died that night. But Sirius had fought with every ounce of courage he could muster, ignoring the dementors that were fast praying on his memories, and the pain from his injuries. Indeed, he'd given it his all, right up until the words had been spoken. Those words - the words by which so many of them had died. 

_Avada Kedavra._

Sighing, she moved to the next headstone. This one too, like all of them, held so much pain. Holding back the tears that threatened to spill, she pushed aside the Ivy, and read one of the inscriptions that she knew all too well. Remus James Lupin. Born 9 May 1960 – Died 21 December 1997. _'Free from the curse at last.'_ Remus had been her teacher at one point, but in the last few years of his life, he had become a good friend to her, just like Sirius. They'd both been courageous, despite the rough and raw deals that life had given them. Images flashed before her eyes. The wolf, his silvery fur glowing in the dim light, attacking the Death Eaters. And then Remus, sprawled across the hard floor, his eyes wide open, glassy and shocked. Blood stained the front of his shirt, streaming openly from a wound on his chest. Wedged in the wound, had been a silver bullet. 

Sirius and Remus had been buried alongside Lily and James, at the Godric's Hollow Graveyard. They would have wanted it. In fact, most of the casualties had been buried here. It was just easier, that way. 

Molly June Weasley was the next headstone she came to. Born 6 June 1954 – Died 21 December 1997. _'A beloved mum and family member, who always managed to make us smile. May your spirit live on.'_ She knew the tears were flowing now. Molly had died protecting one of the people she loved. She'd died a hero; she'd died fighting for what she believed in. Molly knew he would never have been able to face Voldemort, and so she'd died in a vain attempt to safe him. Lot of good that had done. 

Ronald Christopher Weasley. Born March 1 1980 – Died 21 December 1997. _'Arachnophobia – the greatest fear of them all.'_ She smiled, running her fingers over the engraving. Ron had been so brave that night, he knew that all hope was lost, but still he tried. He tried to save them. Pools and pools of blood flashed before her eyes. A red-haired, freckled boy screaming at the hands of Lord Voldemort. 

Shaking aside the memories, she moved to the next headstone. Hermione Granger, it read. Born 19 September 1980 – Died 21 December 1997. _'Bookworm forever,'_ read the inscription. Always the intellect, Hermione, she had been the brains of every adventure. She'd also been a good friend as well though, never hesitant about lending a helping hand. She was insane long before she died, though. They'd tortured her endlessly. Muggle-born witches and wizards were the first targeted. She didn't stand a chance. 

Brushing aside the tears, she rose, preparing herself for the final headstone she had come to visit. This one would be the worst, she knew, she'd already cried at the thought of him so often over the 10 years that had passed, and she was certain she would cry for many more years to come. 

Pulling away the thick Ivy, she choked back a sob and read the words, her eyes as wide as they had been when she'd first seen his body, lying there, lifeless. Harry James Potter. Born 31 July 1980 – Died 21 December 1997. _'The Boy Who Lived. Once a hero, always a hero. It was never your fault, Harry.'_ In front of the headstone, was a small, blue vase, the remains of flowers still inside. Letting the tears flow more freely now, she sank down upon the slate grave. He had been the love of her life, but love just hadn't been enough. It wasn't enough to save him, and it would never be enough. 

Albus Dumbledore had told Harry, that he alone had the power to save them all. But then everything had gone wrong. Four days before Christmas, and Voldemort had attacked the castle. Bringing Harry's worst fears to life, and destroying the boy emotionally. He had watched so many die for him. First his godfather, Sirius, then Hermione, Remus, and Ron. Harry was just listless near the end of the evening, they had died for him, and that had killed him inside. 

So when Voldemort had gotten sick of the fun and games, there was nothing left to save Harry. 10 years had passed, yet still those last few moments haunted her. The flash of green light, her screams as she watched her mother take the Unforgivable for him. And then, the second flash of green light. His body, collapsing on the ground, wand clattering uselessly to the floor. The deadened look in his eyes, and Voldemort looming over them, laughing insanely. 

Albus had snapped in that moment. He used every ounce of power that he held in a last effort to get Voldemort out of the castle. It had worked – it had at the very least gotten him off the grounds, even if it hadn't managed to kill him - but the wake of the destruction that was left was shattering. They'd been having a Christmas dinner that night; it was the eve before the Christmas holidays began. Parents had been invited, and the hall had been alive with festivities. It was left in ruins. So much blood, and so many dead… it had been absolutely devastating. 

Shaking aside the memories haunting her, she leaned up against the headstone, withdrawing a small piece of parchment and a quill from her pocket. Deciding it was time to leave something for Harry, she began to write. 

_Dear Harry,_

The words froze on the parchment, as if freezing in time. She contemplated what to say, over and over, but nothing sounded quite right. Finally, she settled on a poem, simply letting it pour from the heart. 

_Dancing bears, painted wings   
Things I almost remember   
And a song someone sings   
Once upon a December   
Someone holds me safe and warm   
Horses prance through a silver storm   
Figures dancing gracefully   
Across my memory…   
Far away, long ago   
Glowing dim as an ember   
Things my heart used to know   
Once upon a December   
Someone holds me safe and warm   
Horses prance through a silver storm   
Figures dancing gracefully   
Across my memory…   
Far away, long ago   
Glowing dim as an ember   
Things my heart used to know   
Things it yearns to remember…   
And a song someone sings   
Once upon a December_

She paused, rereading over the words, holding the parchment carefully, as if it were fragile, and might break at any second. Then, almost as an afterthought, she added – 

_I love you always, Harry._

She didn't sign it – it didn't need signing. She placed the quill back in her pocket, before reaching up underneath her hood, and tugging on a ribbon to free it from its place, holding up her hair. She rolled up the parchment, and tied the ribbon around it. Removing the dead flowers from the vase by the headstone, she placed the small scroll in there instead. Soft snowflakes had begun to fall again, as she rose from the ground, inwardly saying her goodbyes. 

She backed away from the grave, before turning around and stumbling as she collided with someone. 

'Hold up there, miss,' came a man's voice, as he reached out to steady her. She found that she couldn't meet his eyes, instead settling on staring at his clothes. 'You all right?' asked the same voice. 

'Yeah,' she muttered, staring down at the snowy ground. The wind seemed to change direction all of a sudden, as she was assaulted with his scent. The unmistakable smell of broomstick-polish, mixed in with faint cologne, and a masculine scent. Her breath hitched in her throat, as that smell registered in her mind - only one person smelt that good. Daring against all hopes, she raised her eyes up to his. 

_'Harry?'_ she whispered hoarsely, as her bright blue eyes met the emerald orbs that she thought she'd never see again. His eyes were still framed with thick, round glasses, and a messy mop of hair covered the top of this head, draping down over his eyes slightly. His face broke into a goofy grin. 

'It's good to see you too, Ginny.' 

The overwhelming urge to cry tore through her, as he wrapped strong arms around her frame. Her hood fell back off her shoulders, and he reached one hand up to brush through her unruly red hair. She leant against him, tears flowing fast over her cheeks. After a few minutes, Harry decided it was time to talk. 

'Did you miss me?' he asked. She drew back, staring up into his eyes. 

'More then you can ever imagine!' she said. Harry chuckled. 

'Ginny, it's time to move on, you've got the rest of your life to live.' 

'Harry, we lost the war. Voldemort wreaks his chaos throughout the world on a daily basis. There is no life left for me,' she replied. His eyes seemed to cloud over for a moment, but lost the distant look as he blinked. 

'No, the war's not over yet. Don't ever stop believing, Ginny.' 

'What…?' 

'Ginny, I stopped believing. I let everyone down, 10 years ago. Don't make the same mistake.' 

'But Harry, we'll never win now…' 

'Don't stop believing, Ginny. Believe. I love you.' 

He let go of her, and raised both hands up at shoulder height, either side of him. Following his lead, Ginny raised her hands as well. He pressed his palms against hers, and instantly she could feel the power radiating through him, and off him. Through her, she realized. He was giving the power to her. Her eyes looked questioningly up at his, but he just shook his head, indicating that he knew that she knew the reason behind his actions. 

Harry leaned down, hands still up against hers, and engaged her in a kiss. She responded by closing her eyes and letting herself get lost in that kiss. She'd missed it for so long, and her heart desperately wished she could freeze that moment in time forever. 

Opening her eyes as the kiss ended, Ginny was more then a little startled to find herself standing in the snow alone. She glanced around, knowing he was gone again, but realizing for the first time that he was always still there with her, in spirit, and in her heart. Looking back at the headstone, she jumped. Instead of the little scroll she'd left in the vase, there was now a red rose. Leaning against the vase, was a small picture. Picking up both items, she pressed the rose to her chest lightly, and stared intently at the picture. 

They were all there, in the thick snow on Hogwarts grounds. Her mum, dad, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, Ron, Harry, Hermione, Sirius and Remus were there. To one side of the picture sat a snowman, and snowballs flew in all directions as the group conducted a full on snow fight. She smiled as she saw Harry clobber her with a snowball, her picture-self falling back into the snow, laughing. Everyone in the picture looked happy, not a sad face to be seen. Ginny smiled, understanding Harry's words. 

_Believe._

It echoed through her mind, and suddenly she knew just what she had to do. Turning away with new composure, she set off boldly through the snow - off to set things right. 

And from somewhere behind the Ivy, a shadow of a huge black dog, with pale blue eyes, allowed himself to smile. She'd come back, and his godson had set things right. There was hope again, because Harry had helped her believe. The dog stared out into the snow-covered graveyard once more, before his form blurred, and he vanished from sight – heading back to meet his godson up above, with the new found satisfaction that not all was lost. 

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Finish. 

*Brings out a collection tin and rattles it* Review, please? 


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